


Fishbones

by WaltzQueen



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Late Night Writing, M/M, elliot is a merman, werewolf main character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltzQueen/pseuds/WaltzQueen
Summary: A man moves into the valley and falls in love with a fishman.





	1. Chapter 1

He first thought is that he loves Pelican Town. The air is clear, here. All the scents are natural. Clover and pollen and the smell of good, fresh dirt perfume the breeze that welcomes him into town. The cobbled streets are kind of neat given that the last time he had seen actual stonework on a street he had been on a tour of historic England. Nobody had been allowed to walk on that section of the road either, it was , more or less, a small street that was just a display of the old fashioned way of things. He stomped his heavy timberlands down on the stones with a childish glee.

  
The cobblestone road takes him up and down the valley, from top to bottom and side to side. The trees harbor small and fleeting animals, bird and squirrels and the like, that tremble as he struts past them. The lake is half a mile wide and just the sight is exciting for him. He half wants to jump in then and there, soaking his hair and clothes and splashing around like a kindergartner. If it weren't for the pressing need to scope out the rest of the town he might have done so. Sadly, people tended to get weird around you if you were soaked to the bones. So he moves on.

The forest is big and wide, hiding the town in its lush wilderness. The trees and bushes everywhere make him very aware of how wild the town really is. it's less that the town is being encroach on by the wilderness, it's more that tiny houses and pieces of civilization popped up  in the middle of the woods.The people here are as mild mannered as their animals. The teens and their mild rebellions of loud music and dyed hair can't shake the ineffable stillness of the place. The tiny village is mostly adults; a house wife and an old couple, the silver haired mayor and the blonde lush, the carpenter and scientist at the edge of town. There are more, but even after a week he hasn't met them properly. The doctor was often all locked up in his tower of a clinic. The fisherman that supposedly lived in his shop was away on a fishing trip. The cabin on the beach was always locked, as was the cabin in the woods.

The introduction to Marnie went about as well as it really could have. He knocked on the door, as nice as you please,  and stepped on inside. Every single animal in the place went wild. He could hear and smell every single creature absolutely loosing its mind. The walls to his right shook as a steer threw itself against the wall. Roosters and chickens began clucking and crowing in such a way that screaming was the only way to describe it. The ambient terror and noise had Marnie jumping out of her skin with complete befuddlement. From the left He watched as the little girl he had seen earlier in the day tore out of a door and careened around the sales counter to cling to Marnie's leg, crying and whining. He bounced on his heels for a moment, listening and feeling and hearing the miniature disaster that he had brought behind him.

  
"Uhh, heya." . Marnie stared at him with no small amount of confusion and fear. He watched as a  chicken slammed into the glass window set in the door to the barn, breaking its neck with a feathery splat.  

He didn't get a pet sheep.

  
\---------

  
It's two am and everyone is as asleep as they are going to get. He's been lying in bed impatiently for the past forty minutes, feeling his insides twist and sway like streamers in the wind. He can't stay cooped up any more. He gets out of bed and jolts a little as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He stalks in a tight little circle around the rug on the floor. He really wants to go out. But is it safe? Well, everyone's asleep. But what if they're not as asleep as he thought? But what's the harm really? He has to be careful, though. He circles and circles and halfway scratches a hole in the floor when as two fifteen AM he gives up the good fight and eases open the door.

  
The hushed sounds of nightbirds and crickets welcomes him to the great outdoors and it feels SO good. He doesn't walk down the steps so much as just walks over them, one large leg carrying him directly from the top step to the soil out front. With his toes in the soft  soil he breathes in the gentle moonlight, shucks his clothes and begins running.

By the time he has made a lap around the farm house he feels perfectly at home. The moonlight is shining off of his eyes and his paws feel like they could put down roots, themselves. He spends the next ten minutes chasing rabbits through the underbrush. They zig and zag as they run for their tiny bunny lives only to find themselves outmatched against his sheer speed. He doesn't eat them, though. He's not hungry for rabbit right now. He just wants to play. Sadly the rabbits can only take so much playing before they have tiny fuzzy heart attacks so he trots off elsewhere.

  
The woods south of the ranch is decently large and he has plans to jump directly into that lake. He doesn't get that far when he sees someone out on the docks having a drink. Well, shit. Can't be having with that. He turns tail and begins to sprint. He can make it to the beach through the town. It isn't the lake but really the sea is a better option even if you do get sand in your paws.  
He skulks around the closed doors of shuttered houses, feeling every bit the big bad wolf lurking in the night. For a moment he hunches himself up and bares his teeth for the look of it before bursting into rough canine laughter. He just couldn't keep up the aesthetic, despite how neat it would have been. His tail lazily sweeps the night air behind him as he crosses over the bridge and greets the darkened sea. He knows what colors the sea is in the daytime, but now, at night, its an endless void of moonlight shining off the saltwater. It suddenly strikes him that it must be so vast, so deep and unknowable. Who knows what could be in there?

  
He knew what was in there. It was him in a second.

  
He kicked up sand in a disastrous, chaotic spray as he took off across the beach and barreled into the water. Well, more like the water barreled into him, it seemed. His carefree leap into the ocean had been interrupted by that particular feeling of smashing headfirst into something much more solid than water.

  
When the water falls away from its attempt to salt his eyeballs he attempts to stand up and take stock of his situation. It doesn't take more than a split second for him to look down at the person he had apparently just clobbered. A long haired blonde with the green of new grass and sea glass. The person laid back in the tide, mouth wide open in shock as fish scales fell away their face. They were devastatingly beautiful and also very much awake. At Three AM. He stood there for a long moment in a stunned staring contest with this soaked and very naked person.

  
He doesn't stop to question why even with his nose in their hair he couldn't smell anything other than fish. He doesn't pause to wonder why someone is apparently skinny dipping in the middle of the night. He just yelps, scrambles off of them and tears a path back to the farm, thinking "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" the whole way.


	2. Chapter 2

The man's name is Elliot, Pierre tells him so when he inquires during a selling trip. His eyes are a beautiful green and he smells like saltwater and old books. Granted that might be because the first time he properly sees Elliot he's perusing the stacks of unearthed books he has dug up. He comes to a screeching halt in the aisle across from the blonde. Elliot's just as handsome in the daytime as he was at night. Of course he can't tell Elliot that unless he wants to be run out of town on a train. People tended to get spooked when you told them you were a werewolf. Especially since people tended to not know they existed.

He realizes he's standing around in plain sight when Penny rounds the corner and Elliot turns to face her. He could turn on his heel and bolt out the front doors. But he might never see Elliot again. But Elliot lived here, that was a stupid idea. But he hadn't been here for the past month, who knew when he would leave again? Eventually foolhardiness wins out, as it so often does, and he walks up behind Elliot.

They both turn, hearing his loud boots clunking against the wooden floor. "Oh, hi. You two probably haven't met before. Have you?" Penny smiles genially and gestures at the both of them. "Mr. Rosewood, this is Elliot. Elliot this is Mr. Rosewood."

"Ah, you're the new farmer I've been hearing about . Your arrival has sparked many a conversation. I'm Elliot. I live in the little cabin by the beach. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Me too. I'm Harold Rosewood. You can feel free to call me Harry." Elliot smiles at him and it makes him just a little more bold. He leans in a bit, wearing a wolf's grin with every tooth exposed. "Or you can call me anytime." He winks. Elliot blushes and it feels like he's won the lottery. Penny's giggle from behind Elliot startles them both a little. He straightens up, a bit more aware of his audience.

"Sorry to steal him away from you, Penny. I'll-"

"No, no. It's quite alright Mr. Rosewood. I have to head home, anyway." Penny plucks a book off the shelf and gives a prim little wave as she walks away. Now it's just him and Elliot. It takes all his self control to not crowd Elliot again but he holds on admirably. Which is to say, he only half crowds him, this time.

"I.." He came over here without a game plan and invaded Elliot's personal space and now he's floundering. Gotta think of something. "I like your hair." Elliot's hand goes to his blonde hair absently. The small smile forming on Elliot's face makes his chest feel like he just downed an entire bottle of hotsauce. He's pretty sure his heart is on fire.

"I like yours as well, Harry. Is that color natural?" It's his turn to touch his hair, his dirty hands run through the stringy ponytail.

"Yeah, it is. My whole family's got hair like this. I think everyone back to my great great grandma has silver hair....Do, uhh... do you wanna touch it?" God, how awkward. He can't believe he just asked that. What was wrong with him?

"I do believe I will, if you're certain you're willing to let me." Elliot raises his hand slightly and it's all he can do to not push his head into Elliot's open palm. Elliot pulls loose the ponytail and runs his fingers through it. Whatever fight he had to keep himself from insisting on a head rub is well and truly lost at this point. He takes a step forward, leaning into the touch. He only realizes how illicit their pose must seem, him all but curling around Elliot who has his back to a bookshelf, when Gunther gives a sharp whistle up at the front of the library.

He raises his head to look at Gunther who points sharply at the clock. Wow it's well over an hour past closing time. Time to leave. He turns to Elliot who still has silver hair wrapped around his fingers."Well, umm. Come by to visit me on the farm sometime, yeah?"

"Hmm, I might just do that, Harry." Elliot disentangles his fingers easily and steps away. He watches Elliot leave with a lovelorn sigh. He only snaps back to attention when Gunther shuts off all the lights. He finally traipses out the door into the darkness, ignorant of Gunther's exasperated sighing behind him. Later, when he gets home, he'll hold his hair to his nose and smell the ocean.


	3. Chapter 3

He spends the next couple of months jittering half out of his skin whenever he meets Elliot. Anything from advising him on the fate of a rose to having a drink in the bar has him flustered beyond belief.

The first time He manages to drop in while Elliot is by, he's writing away like some sort of text- machine. He waited outside for Elliot to come out at his usual time for twenty minutes. He then spent an additional fifteen hemming and hawing about possibly interrupting something important or waking him up before shoring up his courage and opening the door. The sight that greets him is Elliot in the center of a storm of paper. Pages lay on the desk and in the trashcan and scattered across the floor, some with more red ink than others, but all are full to the brim with words.

"Oh, Hello Harry. Please do come in." Elliot stands as he enters the room.

"Don't mind if I do." He walks in, shedding dust and sand on the weathered floor. A cursory glance around shows a fairly spartan dwelling. He can't tell if the saltwater smell is coming from the sea outside, or from Elliot himself , but either way it's the most prominent smell in the place.

"Welcome to my humble...well, shack." And it is a shack, a single large room acting as a combined living room and bedroom. There is a door on the back wall through which he can see a sink and a tub. There's no refrigerator, just a basket of fruits and vegetables tipping on top of a piano. The wind shifting from him closing the door kicks up a particular scent that draws his attention to the garbage can wherein four sets of complete fishbones lay completely stripped of meat, like tiny aquatic fossils.

"This is my writing desk. It's where I spend most of my time." Elliot gestures at the literature laden table. "For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a writer. Have I told you that?" Ellot smiles sadly. Can't be having with that.

"No, you haven't, but it suits you to a T, Elliot." Elliot's smile drops the wistfulness. "You really seem like the writing type."

"Do I, really?" Elliot's hand reaches up into his hair, twisting the strand around his fingers.

"Everyone back home said I was nuts...that I could never make it as a writer. Can you believe it? They said 'For every successful author there's a thousand who fail miserably'. Such pessimism...it's sickening."

"You're right, Elliot. It's a damn shame, but people are like that sometimes." He rakes his nails across his scalp, hoping that Elliot hasn't noticed his fingertips sprouting claws. His little finger gets sort of stuck in the end of the stringy, sliver ponytail and he has to count this attempt at nonchalance as a loss. "A lot of folks back in the city thought I wouldn't be able to make it as a florist, either, ya know."

"I take it you proved them wrong then, Mr. Rosewood."

  
"Well, I'm managing to keep the taxes up on the farm so far. So I think I'm doing good enough out here. And , please, call my Harry."

  
"I'm glad for you then, Harry." Elliot smiles blithely at him,and his heart shifts into overdrive, twisting his  insides into heart shaped knots. "You're an inspiration to me, actually. You've inspired me to take my writing in a new direction." Elliot looks away from him, blushing slightly. "It's a very strange feeling. Having my writing, which really is my life, veer off in a new direction like this." Elliot raises his eyes back to his, blushing harder. "But I think I like this direction more than any other one." Oh god, his heart is melting.

 

  
This kicks off four months of mildly flirtatious interactions. Elliot is writing, typically, when he stops by. The slender fingers scratching new worlds no being with graphite on paper captures his attention better than any television show ever did. Elliot works on his novel in the cabin, he makes up sea shanties on the fly, staring out into the ocean. Elliot comes up with bad puns when they hang out on the bridge, sculpting words into silly shapes until they both cackle with laughter. Summer is well underway and edging into fall when Elliot makes his first visit to the farm and composes a poem right then and there, standing amidst the acres of sunflowers and spangles.

Elliot's tiny gasp of surprise is a pretty standard reaction as far as entertaining guests. From Emily to Shane, everyone does it when they walk into his farm. He can't really blame them. The rows of golden sunflowers in the back contrast against the red and orange and white of the poppies. Penny once suggested that the whole thing must look like a floral fire when the evening sun tints the sky in shades of red and he can't disagree. But, despite the Sweet Pea and the Spangles coming up in various shades of purple and fushia, the real star of the show is Elliot, who has waded into the sea of flowers and stands there for a long moment. The wind pushes the blonde hair away from Elliot's face to reveal a serene smile.

The sight of Elliot so happy here has him content in a way he's never felt before. He couldn't tell you if it was an ache in his bones or simply a fool's compulsion but he desperately wants to walk up and french the man. Then Elliot's voice rises above the breeze.

"Oh, Sun, with arms outstretched do you feel all of the things you touch? Is every finger of light aware? Aware of sea you plumb to faint effect? The plants awash with jubilation?" He watches with something akin to anticipation as Elliot turns away from the fields of flowers and back to him. "Can you feel the love we share, down here where we put roots in the hearts of others?"Elliot may have had more poem to share but kissing doesn't really allow for poetry readings and neither does falling breathlessly into a field of flowers.

 

  
He spends the next couple of full moons all but dancing circles around Elliot's cabin. He has spent the past couple of months chasing down rabbits and very nearly leaving them in the sand outside the cabin for Elliot before his common sense kicks in and he takes it home to eat for himself. The urge doesn't go away, though. It gets stronger. Instead of rabbits or squirrels, he wants to really put his skills to the test. Why settle for small game when he could be providing Elliot,His Elliot, with a moose skin large enough to carpet his entire cabin or enough deer meat to last them a month? He know that Elliot's only meat intake is fish. He'd have to be blind and unable to smell to have missed the fact. Despite this fact the desire persists, which is why he is skulking around the northern woods when he meets Marlon.  
  
He is a monster and Marlon is a monster hunter. He knew the old man was around. He had seen him at the edge of town gatherings, silent and watchful, but ultimately unacting. He hadn't thought the man had noticed, or that he didn't believe in monsters that were sometimes human, but the opened jar of peppermint extract that burned just to breathe and the silver blade that followed sure put an end to those assumptions.

  
He looks up at the moon behind the swordsman through his yellow, lupine eyes and thinks about how worried Elliot will be when he doesn't come back in the morning. Then, the blade falls and it's all dark.


	4. Chapter 4

He comes awake all at once, like a flicked light switch. His mouth tastes sour and his ears felt stuffed with cotton but he was alive, as far as he can tell. But would being dead feel any different? Would you _feel_ anything at all? But this could be his dying dream and he was on his way to dead. But that never happened except in movies. But how would one know without dying?

"Harry?"  He opens his eyes and looks up at the faces surround him. Elliot is standing there, night shirt askew and hair in tangles, distress draining his pale skin of it's already pale color. He's shoved out of the way by a man in a cape and stetson, commonly known as the local wizard.

"Now, Mr. Rosewood, I'm going to need you to hold still for this next part."

"Hold still?  For w-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the wizard dumps a handful of red powder in his wound and he howls. The burn hurts worse that getting injured did. He, of course, does not hold still, he squirms and tries to back up and out of reach. His initial jerk backwards ends up with his head putting a dent in the clinic wall the size of a melon.

"Gods damn it." The wizard does his best to hold the powder in the wound as Harry tries to shake it out, but even injured and in shock, a werewolf has plenty of strength to spare. "Elliot! Control your boyfriend."

He hardly has to say it before Elliot comes up beside him and leans over the cot. "Harry, my love, you need to hold still." As Elliot holds Harry's face and speaks to him, Rasmodius presses another handful of red powder against the wound. Harry jerks again, but much less than last time and Rasmodious is able to sloppily tape a bandage against it. It won't hold long, but it won't need to."There, you can squirm all you want, now."

He doesn't squirm, but he does shake as he sits up slowly. Exhaustion has carved black crescents under his eyes and his his entire chest is flushed red under his dark skin. His gasping breaths wrinkle the bandage on his side that is already going dark. His yellow eyes attempt to focus through his tears as he looks around the room again. He sees Elliot, more pale and panicked than he was at the start. Next he sees the wizard, standing at the foot of the bed, stoppering a jar of red powder. Lastly he sees Marlon standing in the doorway.

"Elliot. Shit, Elliot!" He makes his best effort to grab Elliot and haul him as far away from the swordsman as he possibly can. He makes it out of the clinic cot and wraps his arms around his boyfriend? lover? they never got around to really talking about what they were, but they wouldn't have to time to do it in the future if they didn't get away from Marlon. Now.

"Wait, Love! Harry, wait!" Elliot instinctively reciprocates the embrace, one hand keeping the bandage from falling off. Harry shows no signs of letting go of him, though, trying to pick him up and carry him away, despite the very large gash in his side that was now leaking mercury. Elliot grabs his wrists as firmly as he knows how and holds him still. "Harry! We're fine. We're not in danger." Harry shakes his head, still trying to pull Elliot towards the door.

"Elliot, listen. There are somethings that i haven't told you about myself. Big things, and I'm sorry, but-"

"Harry, you're a werewolf I already know," This cuts off whatever panicked ramble he had prepared as his worldview rapidly shifts. He pauses just enough for Elliot to get him moving back to the bed. Elliot's hands let go of his limp wrists, instead shepherding him back to the medical cot. Harry sits back down with a thump, not acknowledging Marlon or Rasmodius.

"How long?"

Elliot laughs sweetly. "Since the first time we met, actually. It's hard to forget crawling out of the sea bare naked, only to be knocked down by a werewolf."

"You knew the whole time, and you love me anyway?" Elliot laughs again, more incredulous this time. Elliot runs a soothing hand through Harry's silver hair. Harry leans into it, and grabs at his boyfriend(?) who comes willingly. "You're not freaked out that I'm not, you know, a human?"

"Harry Isewell Rosewood, I am a Merman. It would be beyond hypocritical for me to be concerned about that."

Harry sits there, dazed and confused and seriously injured. He is thinking a lot of things; is this real? Of course he is, how did I miss this?Am I dreaming? Who brought me here? He really knew the whole time? All that he manages to say is a creaky and unconvincing "....I knew that."

Marlon takes the opportunity to draw attention to himself with a pointed clearing of his throat. "I believe I have some apologizing to do here." He watches as the injured werewolf tightens his grip around the merman, growling warily. If he were still furry, Marlon imagine he could see his hackles rising. Marlon can't blame the man.

"I want to apologize, Mr. Rosewood. I attacked you with no real cause. I....have some prejudices against monsters, and when I saw you lurking ar-"

"I wasn't lurking."

"What?"

"I wasn't lurking like some type of-of demon." Marlon watches as the pale merman tightens his grip on his dark-skinned boyfriend. "I was taking a jog. Like a person."

"Oh, yes, of course. When I saw you taking a jog I feared you were there to attack me and I panicked. I know it's no excuse, but I.... I wanted to apologize...for this." Marlon gestures to indicate the long slice going down Harry's torso. "I've been fighting monsters for so long that I forgot how to see when someone wasn't a monster and I... I think it's time that I retire, if I've attacked someone that should be under my watch."

"You can't just leave," Elliot snaps.

"I'm sorry? I can't just leave?" Marlon's eyebrows furrow with confused affront. "I almost cut your boyfriend in half, if you don't think that's a good reason to scram-"

"Now, you listen here, Mr. Whittaker," Elliot says waspishly. He makes to take an angered step towards Marlon but is still held tight in the werewolf's hairy arms." Shouldn't the injured party decide the retribution here? And besides, if you always leave, how is that going to change things? Will leaving change your prejudices against non-humans?" Elliot's eyes narrow venomously as Marlon says nothing. "As I expected."

"I believe I can assist here." Everyone turns back to the heretofore silent wizard. "While I am not a therapist of any sort I do believe I can get you connected with one who lives in Zuzu City. That is, if you're genuine about wanting to change your ways."

"I am."

"Good. You come see me tomorrow, or rather later today, and I'll get the details seen to." Rasmodius takes a quick look around around at the little scene assembled here in Harvey's clinic and walks up to the still hugging couple. "And as for you, Mr. Rosewood. Feel free to take that bandage off in another ten minutes, the Selenium should be done working by then. and then take a quick dip in the ocean to wash it out. Come by and see me some time before the next full moon, for a check up."

The wizard turns on his heel and Marlon follows him as he walks out the door. He and Elliot sit there for a moment, listening to Rasmodius say something indistinct to Harvey before leaving. Holding on to his merman boyfriend and still not entirely convinced he's not about to die a thought occurs to Harry. "Elliot?"

"Yes, dear?"

"How come Harvey wasn't treating me?"

"I told him you believed in alternative medicine, and that you wanted the wizard to treat you."

"Great, now he probably thinks I'm some sort of crystal hippie nut."

Elliot cries and laughs as his tears turn to pearls and scatter on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selenium is an element with the atomic number 34. Name for it comes from the word Celene/Selene and it's named for the moon. It also binds to Quicksilver,aka Mercury, which is claimed to have anti-vampire and anti-werewolf properties.
> 
> Legends of mermaids say that their tears turn into pearls.


End file.
